The two of them stood without speaking in a sea of bustling students and families, two rocks in the stream of movement that the crowds subconsciously split around, an interruption in the smooth patterns of first day embarkation that immediately caught his eyes. Neville towered over most of the people on the platform, was the second tallest professor Hogwarts had; it was one of the reasons that Headmistress McGonagall always assigned him London duties on the first day, it was easier for him to control the chaos and to find the stragglers crammed into the corners about to be left behind.
The woman and child were fairly close in height, the boy only a few inches shorter than his mother despite his age. That'd make him one of the taller first years he'd seen since he'd taken over Herbology from Professor Sprout, and likely meant by the time he finished Hogwarts he'd rival Neville, who'd cracked the six foot mark in seventh year and then gained a few more extra inches during his apprenticeship.
The little boy was clearly nervous but his mother projected cool confidence. Some women in silence exuded fragility, like a single touch would make them shatter. This woman had flinty dark eyes that passed over the people as they walked past and put Neville in mind of the waiting quiet of devil's snare, beautiful but capable of deadly in the wrong circumstances.
Yet where her pinkie finger curled around her son's there was gentleness and love, a willingness to hide overt affection in the crowd of his soon-to-be peers when every other mother on the platform was smothering their children in hugs and kisses and platitudes regardless of who saw. It was a chink in the cold facade she projected and something in that cool face seemed familiar as Neville drank in her features.
Pale olive-toned skin, with sharp high cheekbones and a pointy chin, eyes so dark that from this distance they looked black, and her hair spilled over her shoulders in what seemed to be a matching color, but glinted with hints of slate blue in the sun from the overhead skylights.
"Bloody hell, is that Pansy Parkinson?"
"Ron, there are children around!"
Neville bit back a smile and nodded agreeingly, "Including your own," he pointed out, turning away from the enigmatic pair to greet his oldest friends. "Hello, Rosie!"
"Hi, Uncle Nev!"
He lifted the small girl onto his hip expertly, tickling under her chin until she laughed before turning his attention back to Hermione and Ron. "Here to see Teddy off then?"
"Yes," Hermione answered crisply, still glaring at her husband. "He's forbidden Harry to do it after what happened last year. And Harry said if he can't go then Ginny shouldn't go, especially since she was also part of the reason for the almost-stampede last year." She reached over and grasped Rose under her arms, silently handing her over to Ron since she herself couldn't hold the girl, not since she'd reached the third trimester and her womb had reached the size of a beach ball. "And yes, that is Pansy." She confirmed, waving a hand at her in greeting. "I told you that this is her son's first year, Ron, kind of goes hand in hand that she'd be here to see him off."
Neville was a bit abashed to realize he hadn't recognized her from a distance but he shoved the annoying shyness that liked to rear its head at inopportune moments away and smiled warmly down at the boy by her side as she strode over. Hermione greeted Pansy with a kiss to the cheek, a hint of a friendship that he'd had no knowledge of, before reaching over and ruffling her son's hair. "Have you stowed your trunk already? Got money for treats? Excellent. I'm going to go find Teddy and we'll get you two set up in a compartment, that way you can ride together."
She bustled off into the crowd, leaving the trio of adults behind in awkward silence and in that uncomfortable moment Neville realized that Pansy had not said a word since she'd come over to stand with them. "How are you, Pansy? I haven't seen you since, um, well, let's not go there."
She stared back at him balefully, pursing her lips in an unimpressed moue.
"Hermione says you're working in the Department of Mysteries now," Ron tried, explaining to Neville, "they've been partnered on and off for the last year. That's about all I know, cause you know, mysteries," he stressed with a chuckle, smiling what he clearly hoped was an inviting smile at the witch.
Pansy rolled her eyes as Ron spoke and it immediately brought back a flood of memories of the times she'd done so in school, often at something he or his friends had said, and Neville chuckled because for the first time she reminded him of the girl he'd grown up around, all sharp edges and disdain.
She ignored their attempts at conversation and turned away to face her son, straightening his collar over his robes and smoothing it down; Neville was close enough to see that her fingers were trembling as she did so. Her derisive sneer faded into a genuine smile and she moved her hands in front of her in some kind of deliberate move, fingers twisting gracefully and quickly, but Neville had no idea what she was doing. Her son did however, his eyes following the movement and his own frown shifting into a smile when she stopped, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her tightly.
Seconds later Hermione broke through the crowd followed by a blue-haired teenager who was clearly sulking because he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't; unfortunately Neville had gotten very familiar with that face since he'd first started teaching him two years ago.
He still thanked his lucky stars Teddy had been sorted into Hufflepuff so he didn't have to run roughshod over the little hooligan in the off-hours too.
"It's Victoire's first year so she's going to sit with you guys, too," Hermione decided, pointing over the crowd so Ron's oldest brother would know that she wanted them to head towards the third from last compartment.
"Do you ever get tired of bossing everyone around?"
"No," she answered absentmindedly, studying the crowds and nodding as she found what she thought was the best route. "Alright, grab your things, boys. We're going to squeeze around the Fawcetts and then we should be able to snag that empty room there."
Neville left the six of them to get situated and started to do his actual job, checking in on the muggleborns and making sure they knew what to do and where to go, comforting several parents who'd never thought they'd be sending their kids off to boarding school to learn magic of all things. Some of the magic-born parents needed a bit of coddling as well, though he was pleased to see that most of the kids were more excited than scared and for him that made it worth it. Every sleepless night wondering if he was doing a good job, every weekend spent grading papers, every heart-stopping moment when something started to go wrong and he got there in time to keep it from being a disaster, when he made it into a learning moment instead of a painful memory; it reminded him of why he'd left the Ministry and became a teacher.
They were long enough from the Battle of Hogwarts that it was the parents that remembered what happened and the aftermath, not the children. The years when the students returning were still traumatized by what happened were platforms full of stress and worry, reluctance and fear, of crowds too small and jagged with missing pieces from those that didn't survive.
This was what it was meant to be. This was laughter and squeals of excitement, fizzing whizzbangs and fireworks-
"Steven Sallow, do you want to be the first student to get detention before you even get on the train? If I see that firework again before we make it to Scotland, that's a month in Greenhouse Two," he threatened, glaring at the fifth year and gesturing to the lit firework in the teen's hand. The teen snuffed the fuse with his sleeve, leaving a small hole that had his mother fuming.
"Sorry, Professor!"
He was still shaking his head as he made his final rounds, softly reminding the families to step back from the train now that they were so close to departure. Near the end of the train, Pansy was staring up at her son through the window, smiling tremulously as she reached up to hand him a folded letter, not quite tall enough to reach. Neville grasped the paper and bridged the gap, handing it to the young boy through the open window, smiling at him before turning back to her. "Time to go, I'm afraid." She'd already recoiled back from the train, or from him, he couldn't tell. He shook off the sting that caused and grasped Hermione's hand as she stepped off the train steps and joined Ron and Rose on the platform. As if he'd given it permission, the train blew its warning horn and slowly stirred to motion, the wheels creaking forward with a metallic hiss. Within minutes it'd started its progression out of London and in his mind's eye Neville could see the journey it would take. Some years he liked to take the train with the students, enjoying the views out the window even if it did make him melancholic. This year he had too many things yet to get ready at the school so he'd apparate to Hogsmeade and then rejoin the students when they arrived later that day.
He watched as the train disappeared from sight and turned back to find that most of the parents were making their way back out through the portal or apparating away. There were a couple of muggle parents eyeing the portal dubiously so he stayed for a bit, accepting that if they didn't work up the courage to go through on their own he'd have to assist them.
Pansy stood close to Hermione, moving her hands in more of those intricate patterns before waving her fingers goodbye and apparating away.
"I thought you said she was friendlier than she'd been in school, she didn't even say a bloody word to me or Nev while you were gone," Ron complained, restlessly shifting his sleepy toddler on his hip as her head dipped against his shoulder.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, grimacing as she shook her head apologetically, "I thought, well…Pansy can't speak anymore. I thought I'd told you?"
"Can't?" Neville questioned, furrowing his brow because 'can't' was a very telling word choice, especially from Hermione who worshiped words and always used them very deliberately.
She swallowed heavily, rubbing her hand over the swollen bump of her babe as she often did when upset. "Her ex-husband cursed her and unfortunately it's permanent, the healers say it can't be reversed."
Neville was horrified, "Why would he do that?"
Unfortunately Ron asked at the same time, "Blimey, what did she do to deserve that?"
She immediately smacked her husband upside his head. "She didn't do anything to deserve that. That is called victim blaming, Ronald. He was an evil man that her parents married her off to and thanks to the betrothal contract, she can't even press charges against him."
"He's not even imprisoned for it?" Neville asked angrily, ignoring Ron's grumbling next to him.
"No, that's why she came back to England last year, at least here she's got some protection against him," she explained, still glaring at Ron.
"Why'd you hit me?"
"What'd you do to deserve it?" She replied back sweetly, smiling acidically.
"You know I didn't mean it like that."
"Well I meant it when I hit you."
Neville shook his head and left the two squabbling on the platform, but the conversation stayed on his mind over the rest of the day. He thought about it when he was renewing the age wards on the greenhouses, he thought about it when he sat in the staff meeting at mid-day and got back the approved lesson plans for the year, he thought about it in Hogsmeade as the students surged out of the freshly arrived train and gamboled their ways toward the carriages, and in the case of firsties, the boats.
As he was walking the train, confirming every compartment empty, he thought about it some more and most intently when he found a small folded letter stuck in the lining between the seats in the third from last compartment.
He knew he shouldn't but didn't resist opening it up to read what she (not the Slytherin, not the bully, not the pureblood, but Pansy the mother) had written to her son on his first day of Hogwarts.
To my brave boy,
I know that you're scared and don't want to tell me. That's okay. Hogwarts is yet another new place and we've only really just started to get settled here in London, and I won't be there and that's going to be really hard on you. It's going to be hard for me too.
I know your father wanted you to go to Durmstrang, but trust me when I tell you that Hogwarts was always the only place I'd send you. I wanted you to find a place where you could grow, where you could really be whoever you wanted to be, where you could find friends that would challenge you and would make you a better version of yourself. I had that chance when I was at Hogwarts and I didn't take it, but you have always been more courageous than I could ever hope to be.
Maybe Hermione is right and you'll be in Gryffindor, become my little lion. Though I still think that you're a Ravenclaw at heart, you're so smart and eager to learn. Though now that I think about it, you do eat like a Hufflepuff, that's for sure.
Or maybe it'll be Slytherin, like me. We Parkinsons do look really good in green.
It doesn't matter what house you're in, I'm going to be proud of you, no matter what.
I love you, Andy.
Xoxo,
Mum
P.S. I know you said you were going to write to me as soon as the feast is done, but you're going to forget and I already forgive you for it. Write to me after your first day of classes instead.
The letter was in his pocket as he arrived in the Great Hall, smiling and waving at some of the students as he made his way up to take his seat. Everyone was only just beginning to settle when the doors on the far end opened and Professor Whitlaw, who'd replaced Professor McGonagall as Transfiguration teacher, swept in with the first years just behind him.
It looked like the boy and Victoire had become fast friends on the train, they stuck close as they lined up in front of the entire student body and staff. Neville tuned out the welcoming speech and Professor Whitlaw's explanation of the sorting hat and then its song which was far less foreboding these days than it had been when he'd been in school.
The scroll unfurled itself on the small ceremonial stand, and the first name was called: "Andrei Angelov!"
Neville snapped back to attention and watched as Pansy's son slowly made his way to the stool. He was tall enough he didn't need any help sitting on it but it was clear despite knowing exactly what was going to happen that he was still very nervous. He cast his eyes around, looking for something familiar and landed on Neville, their eyes locking. He couldn't resist smiling at him reassuringly and giving him a thumb's up.
The hat dropped down onto his black hair, large enough to cover his eyes, and Andrei twisted back around to face the tables of students. The hat talked to itself for several minutes, always too low to be heard by anyone else but clearly having a bit of a time sorting out where to place him.
Then it came to a resolution and straightened up, his maw opening wide as he shouted to the rafters: "Ravenclaw!"
The table of blue erupted in cheers, shouting for him to come join them and Neville joined the rest of the staff in applauding the selection. It took another hour to get through the rest of the first years, the longest it had taken since he'd become a teacher but the class sizes had only just started to reach the pre-war levels so Neville accepted this would be the new normal going forward.
Hours later, he was directing traffic just before the moving staircases when he caught sight of the newest Ravenclaw amongst the crowd that was passing by. "Mr. Angelov!"
His head spun around, wide eyes at the shock of an adult not just calling his name but knowing his name. "Yes?"
"You dropped this on the train," Neville explained as he offered him the slip of paper.
"Thanks, Professor!"
"I'll see you tomorrow, 9 a.m. sharp. Herbology with the Slytherins, make sure you and your housemates bring your gloves, we're going to be jumping right in."
"Yessir!"
It took only a few weeks for Neville to agree with Pansy's letter, her son was a Ravenclaw at heart. He soaked up lessons like a sponge, was the first to shove his hands into the dirt in class, and had been the first first-year to get kicked out of the library at curfew. His papers were well written, thorough and concise but lurking within was a sharp sense of humor that evoked thoughts of the boy's mother.
Not that Neville needed assistance with thinking of Pansy.
She'd somehow gotten under his skin from their singular interaction and the memory came up in idle moments when there was nothing left of the day to distract him. He was surprised to find that he'd mentally catalogued more details that he had any right to. She'd had her nails done that day, shiny half-moons of white on the ends of the nails on slim dainty fingers that moved regally as she spoke to her son. She was wearing emerald earrings but not snakes as she would have worn in school; no, the gems had glinted through her hair placed within the leaves around a goblin-wrought golden flower. It'd looked like a pansy but he'd not been close enough to know for sure.
Not that he was thinking of standing closer to her.
It'd be entirely inappropriate given that her son was his student.
He reminded himself of that as he put quill to paper and wrote a missive to her, the member of staff that had been nominated to do so by the others. They foolishly thought that the years spent as classmates somehow made him the right person to broach this subject with her, as if there'd been any sort of friendship or camaraderie from that time. Still, there was a conversation that needed to be had, understanding that needed to come, if the professors were going to truly support Andrei and help him become the best wizard he could be.
He asked her to come see him, let her know that he had an open hour every day but Thursday from 2-3pm and if she'd respond with a good date he wanted to discuss her son's current academic progress and some concerns that had come up.
Neville was not surprised when she arrived unexpectedly the next day, standing in the doorway of Greenhouse Three just as he'd hoisted a baby wiggentree out of its sapling pot. The larger pot, its new home, was only a few feet away but he still managed to cover himself in soil and fertilizer during the move. He smiled apologetically at the well-put-together witch, setting the tree down in the pot and gathering up more soil to fill in the gap around the root ball, finishing the process he'd started before standing and using magic to vanish the mess on the floor and all over him.
"Hiya, Pansy," he greeted with a smile, striding over to greet her with a handshake before thinking better of it and dropping his hand awkwardly. "We can have this meeting here or we can go to my office if you'd prefer?"
She pursed her lips and shrugged her indifference, her body language mirroring the placid expression on her face. She stepped past him and into the greenhouse, striding intently towards the stool by the worktable and took a seat gracefully, hopping onto it with a soft flutter of silk robes, and setting her bag down on the only clean spot she could see and pulling out a scroll and quill.
Neville realized that was how she'd have to communicate with him and moved to stand next to her, closer than he would have for any other parent, but it only made sense since he'd have to see what she wrote, wouldn't he?
"Um, we wanted to talk to you about Andrei, we've got some questions, well, really concerns."
Speak plainly, Professor Longbottom.
"Oh, you can call me Neville, Pansy."
She responded with a raised eyebrow and a clearly impatient expression.
He could've kicked himself, not just for the lapse in professional comportment but also because she was not here for him to indulge in fantasies of flirtation, he'd called her here as a concerned mother and he needed to be respectful of that.
"Your son is fantastic, really he is. He's smart, clever, and diligent. He's the first to volunteer to help others, he's making friends in his house and in the other houses. He's not lost any points, incredibly well behaved lad."
But?
Neville swallowed heavily, "He's quiet. But not shy, not like I was. He has no issues answering questions and he speaks to his friends, but he won't speak to any of the professors unless they've spoken to him first. Not even to ask questions in class. It took us a while to catch on because otherwise he's perfectly fine. I first saw it a few weeks ago, we were working on agaricus brasiliensis and he had a question and instead of raising his hand and asking, he had Sybille Murk ask me. After that I spoke with some of the other professors and we realized he was doing it in all the classes."
I will speak-
Neville laid his hand on her's, stopping her writing and continuing, "It's not just that. He's having fear responses to certain things, extreme ones."
Explain.
"In the Great Hall last week, there was a squabble between two students. One of them threw a tarantallegra curse while shouting at the other to 'shut up'. It was easily fixed and broken up, but he was nearby and he…he was frozen but was shaking so bad that the cups on the table were rattling. Professor Whitlaw gave him some chocolate and he settled after a bit, but it's happened a few other times as well."
Pansy closed her eyes and slipped her hand out from under his, settling it in her lap and clenching her fingers together so tightly her knuckles paled from the strain. For a few minutes Neville thought he could see in her where Andrei's responses came from, for she sat as still and silent as Andrei was prone to, lost in their minds as they tried to sort through something new or something stressful or alarming.
With a deep breath she opened her eyes and reached for the quill again. He was seeing a mind healer in London.
"Did you talk to the Headmistress about him needing it?"
Briefly, but the logistics weren't possible. He'd have had to come back to London weekly to attend sessions.
Neville nodded slowly, thinking through the complications before coming up with a solution that, at least to him, seemed like the best one for Andrei. "I can bring him to London on Thursday afternoons. Ravenclaws firsties' last class that day ends at 1 and it's my free afternoon."
We couldn't ask you to do that.
"You're not asking, I'm offering."
Pansy bit her lip, considering it, shifting restlessly as she spun the quill in her hand before placing it back to the paper. If the Headmistress agrees, I'll make the arrangements.
That was how Neville found himself flooing into the foyer of a stylish flat in Diagon Alley two weeks later. Pansy and Andrei lived in the posher side of the Alley, far enough off the main thoroughfare for quiet cobblestone streets lined with trees and glowbug lamps. Andrei didn't hesitate to push through the door and bound through the house, colliding with his petite mother with enough force to make Neville wince. He'd trailed behind the boy, not invited in technically but he could pretend it was implied given he'd been abandoned in the front hall.
She greeted him with more warmth than he'd seen from her before, clasping her hand in front of her chest before raising it shoulder height and making an exploding motion with her hand, clearly saying something but Neville was lost as to what. He could tell it was something said with great affection though, because she curled her fingers around Andrei's cheeks just after and pressed a kiss against his forehead.
Neville did his best to follow their conversation, it was surprisingly easy since he could at least understand half the conversation.
"I'm trying to convince Sybille to take me to the Slytherin common room to see the grindylows, but she says that she can only invite a boy back to her common room if they're dating and then she got mad when I told her that was gross."
A flurry of movement of her hands and a clearly indignant expression telegraphed Pansy's disapproval of her son's handling of that situation.
"I didn't hurt her feelings. Okay, maybe I did, but I said I was sorry afterwards. I don't want her to be my girlfriend, I just want to see the grindylows!"
She tilted her head and her loosely braided hair slid off her shoulder and left several fringe pieces dancing along the side of her face. It made her look endearingly feminine, softer than he'd seen her yet. Neville had the fiercest urge to touch a strand and see if it was as soft as it looked, if it'd slide through his fingers like the ink it pantomimed so well.
She made several more motions with her hands, at one point slowing down and moving very deliberately through a series of motions. Under his breath Andrei spoke letters out loud and Neville realized she was spelling out a word.
"Yeah, everyone has been really nice. I think herbology is my favorite so far but charms are a lot of fun. Did you know Professor Flitwick is part goblin? That's so cool. He's the head of my house too. Oh, Professor Longbottom!"
The two of them finally noticed he was standing there. It was a bit disconcerting to be the focus of two sets of identical dark eyes but with the two of them so close it was easy to see where the resemblance started and ended. Andrei had inherited his mother's eyes, framed by thick black lashes, and her slightly upturned nose. His hair wasn't long enough to truly tell but it looked to Neville like he had her blue-toned black hair as well, but that was where the resemblance ended. The rest of Andrei must've been inherited from his father, who'd clearly been a large swarthy bloke given the natural tan and strong chin.
He wondered if it ever bothered Pansy to look at her son and see the wizard who'd hurt her.
Neville shook himself mentally because he knew without even asking it didn't. She was clearly a very good mother who saw only her son, not the shadows of another wizard.
"Hello, Pansy," he greeted, crossing his arms as the discomfort of the situation finally sank in. Neville couldn't recall ever having been in the home of the parent of one of his students before. It felt intimate, to be in someone's private sanctum, to be privy to what they were like in the safety of their home.
She was different here. It wasn't just the trousers and soft sweater, though he'd never seen her outside of robes. It wasn't even the way she fit in this place with its bright cream walls and warm toned woods, the only hints of green the small plants strategically placed in the decor. It was the relaxed way she'd stood with her son, loose and unalert, her face expressive and her eyes bright. The contrast with the times he'd seen her before were stark; he couldn't help but wonder if she was defensive in public because of her past with him, with everyone, or if it was because without a voice she felt vulnerable. The Pansy of his youth had used her voice as a weapon, had been capable of taking wizards down twice her size with a sharp barb or a hissed spell without hesitation.
If the wizard's intent had been to strip her of her greatest weapon, Neville had the sense that he'd failed. Even without being able to speak, Pansy was a power. She commanded attention and deference from others, from him. She moved through spaces like they owed her the territory she claimed; it was devastatingly alluring.
She raised her chin and he could quite literally see her control shift into place on her face. She raised her hand to her chin, pointing her fingers there and sweeping them down.
"Mum says thank you."
"Not a problem," he answered, shrugging and smiling at them. "Where is your appointment at?"
"It's right by Hyde Park, Mum usually takes me there for an ice cream after."
"I'm heading that way myself. Did you know Serpentine Island is a magical reserve? It's got several specimens I want to add to Greenhouse Four. I was planning to collect them today, we can head that way together if you don't mind some company," Neville offered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels, aiming for endearing as he thought up an excuse to tag along on the fly. He'd actually intended to visit several apothecaries today before stopping in to see his parents at St. Mungo's, but visiting hours lasted until 8 so there was plenty of time to do that even with the side trip.
"Sure," Andrei answered, flinching when his mother poked him in the ribs from behind. "What? We should really get going, Mum, Dr. Halbrand won't like it if we're late."
Neville shrugged out of his robes, revealing the jeans and button-up underneath, carelessly tossing it across the back of the nearby couch. "I'm ready if you are."
It was only after the cab ride in awkward silence when he was standing on the street with Pansy as Andrei disappeared through the office door that he registered maybe he should've thought the plot through a bit more. "What do you typically do while he's in there?"
She waved her hand towards the stone bench just to the side of the front steps, indicating she waited there.
"Do you want to sit and wait or you could head into the park with me? It shouldn't take me long to get the plants I wanted, we'll be back before the hour is up."
She considered his offer, pursing her mouth to the side as she thought about it, before she nodded. She pulled out a sheath of paper from her bag, bound by metal wiring, and a white stick.
Why are you being so nice to us?
"I'm a nice person, Pansy," he reasoned, reaching over to touch the pen in her hand. "That's a muggle pen, I don't think I've ever seen one before. May I?" She passed it to him, their fingers touching and there was a small spark of something when they touched. He'd ignored it last month during their parent-professor conference, but here on a London street in the afternoon light, just the two of them, he didn't have to. "I'm not certain why, truth be told. Maybe it's because you're…so different from what I remember. Maybe it's because Andrei's a really good kid and seems like he's dealing with a lot and if he's dealing with a lot, then you're dealing with a lot. I figured you could use a friend. Or more friends, as it may be, I know you're close with Hermione but she's about ready to drop another babe so she's got that on her mind. And me? I don't have much going on." He paused, spinning the pen in his fingers just like he did with his wand sometimes. "The only thing on my mind right now is you. Well, I mean, him. Not you because that would be wrong and not proper at all."
She snatched the pen back and scowled at him, unimpressed with his rambling. She started to scribble on the pad, but before she could get into a proper dander he placed his hand on the small of her back and gently pushed her towards the entrance to the park.
"I think we were going to walk."
I appreciate that you're thinking of my son.
"I wish I could say it's because it's my job, but I do genuinely like him. It's hard not to like someone who loves the things I love. I was a little surprised by how much he took to Herbology considering how bad you were at it."
He chuckled when she mouthed the word 'rude' at him. I didn't like to get dirty. I still don't. She paused in her writing, tilting the pad back towards herself, her eye cutting towards him then back to the page. She wrote something, clearly reluctantly. He gets it from his father. Baron Angelov owned several commercial greenhouses for magical plants, it was the family empire and he insisted all his children learn the ins and outs from a young age.
"You called your husband by his title?" He asked dubiously after reading the revelation, a bit uncomfortable understanding now that perhaps he reminded Pansy of her ex.
Ex-husband, and yes, always.
"That seems-"
She cut off his statement with a sharp slice of her hand. Cold. My marriage was very cold, Professor Longbottom. It's part of why Andy is in that office right now.
"Can I ask, if it's not intrusive, what happened? It's not really my business, I know, but…maybe if I knew I could help him more?"
She pointed to a wooden bench along the Serpentine lake, the island in view a short distance away. They sat and she began to write.
Children were to be seen and not heard.
She showed him the page and waited until he nodded slowly to show that he'd read.
Wives were to be seen and not heard.
At that his hands clenched as he leant forward, looking intently at the smooth surface of the water and tried to emulate the tranquility he saw.
She turned the page resolutely and started to write, taking several minutes to fill it before jerking it off the pad and handing it to him.
He bartered for me because I came from a family of girls, and he wanted daughters. Baron Angelov already had his heir and spare from his first marriage, now he needed daughters to secure alliances with the other Families. He was disappointed when I gave birth to a son he didn't need. I didn't agree with his words and that was the first time he cursed me to silence. Once won't do harm, or even twice, but he did it when we disagreed, which was often. Per the betrothal charter, he could not harm me physically, but this he could do. Eventually it became permanent and even then, I was not the wife he wanted. The first time he did it to Andy, I left. He was well rid of us and has already remarried.
While he'd read the story of her marriage, she'd written more but this time she tore it out gently, hesitating before handing it to him.
But the lessons we learn young are hard to break.
"I'm sorry you went through that."
I'm not.
He could tell she meant it, it was in the resolute set of her mouth, the firmness of her chin as it shifted just so into the air defiantly.
I thought you needed to collect specimens?
"Yep, sure do," he agreed, grasping the lifeline to escape the tense atmosphere. He stood and gestured to the island, confirming with a look that they were out of sight of any muggles. "Side-along?"
He held out his hand to her and when they touched, the tingling awareness came with it and he was watching her face close enough to be pretty sure she felt it too.
Hours later he returned to Hogwarts with a withdrawn student, full of ice cream but pensive after his visit to the doctor. Pansy had explained subtly that he was usually quiet after a session but he'd bounce back quickly, just had to give him some time to sort out his feelings.
Neville thought that tonight in particular he understood what that felt like, given that he had a ton of thoughts and feelings in his own head after today's adventure.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
The boy hesitated, before nodding to himself and squaring his shoulders, almost like he was hyping himself up. "I prefer to be called Andy." He continued before Neville could respond. "I wanted to change my name to Parkinson, so mum and I would share a name but she said that being a Parkinson in Hogwarts would probably be worse than being an Angelov and that if I really wanted to do it, we could do it when I left school. But I don't like my name. I don't like to be called Andrei. So I want you to call me Andy."
"I can do that," he agreed immediately, briefly resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll make sure the other professors know that too. Would that be okay?"
"Yeah," Andy nodded, only allowing his hand to rest there for a moment before shrugging it off and rushing ahead to join his friends in the courtyard. "Um…thank you for taking me today. And I guess, next week too. And the week after that. And-"
"It's my pleasure, Andy," he reassured, shaking his head as he held back the smile that threatened.
After dinner in the great hall, where he didn't eat much since he'd had three scoops of jaffa cake ice cream that afternoon, Neville requested a brief meeting with Headmistress McGonagall. He didn't mince his words.
"I'm going to reach out to Professor Sprout, she likes to keep her hand in and I'm going to need a bit of coverage."
"Whatever for, Neville?" She was clearly surprised by his admittance of needing assistance. He'd always been one of her most dedicated staff members, stepping in to cover others and never asking for it himself.
He took a seat, sighing heavily before admitting, "I'm…compromised. And I'm honestly kind of hoping to only get more compromised, so, to keep things fair for everyone, I can't be a part of performance review and testing for Andy anymore."
"Because you're taking him to London on Thursdays? Neville, the other teachers did offer to assist with that as well-"
"Only partly. It's also partly because-" he hesitated, for all the years they've spent together as colleagues, this was still Minerva McGonagall, his head of House, the authoritarian from his youth. "I like Pansy, Headmistress. I like her alot."
McGonagall leaned back in her seat behind her big desk, staring at him over the half-moon lenses with a questioning look. "And does she like you back?"
"Begrudgingly, but I think so," he admitted, grinning at her. "She bought me ice cream today. Three scoops."
"Oh, three scoops, you say? That does seem indulgent."
"You're making fun of me."
"Indeed," she agreed, finally cracking her severe facade and smiling at him. "I'll need you to fill out the ethical complication form in case the board catches wind and we'll add a document to it that Pamona is going to assume responsibility for Andy's grading as we move forward. Be sure you also refrain from awarding house points to him."
"Yes, ma'am."
She summoned the blank scroll for him and waved him towards the door. "Neville?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck."
It wasn't luck that he needed, however, it was machination. After that afternoon spent walking together in Hyde Park, Pansy had managed to avoid more intimate conversations with him, keeping their brief time alone limited to safe topics like his work, Andy's time at school, and other generic topics that could have been shared between acquaintances. When he realized she was placing distance between them, he allowed it. He didn't always contrive a way to join them when he brought Andy to her home, he made his excuses and did the things he really did need to do on his afternoon off.
He had a plan, however, and it wasn't long before he felt ready to implement it.
He just needed the right moment, he needed to think like a Slytherin and create an opening because one wasn't readily available.
It came to him quite suddenly one afternoon in November, as he removed his cloak and lay it across the back of her couch before the three of them left, his hand lingering on the teaching robes.
So it was that five hours later, just after seven o'clock, he was knocking on her door. Pansy was surprised to see him again so soon, had just said goodbye to him and Andy about three hours before and hesitated to open the door wider upon finding him on the other side.
"I forgot my robes," he explained as a greeting, trying to make all six feet two inches of himself as non-imposing as possible. He had a lifetime of practice at it and it must have worked because she opened the door fully and nodded for him to enter. His robes were still laying exactly where he left them, draped across the back of her couch. He briefly touched them, contemplated his next move, before spinning back around to face her.
She'd shut the door behind him and was following down the hall, pausing in the doorframe of the sitting room when she realized that he'd 'found' the robes but hadn't grabbed them and wasn't seemingly intent on leaving just yet.
Neville was more than a little trepidatious now that he was actually standing there in the room looking at her, but at this point he really had little to lose. It didn't help that she had looked particularly pretty today, bundled up in a puffy white coat and a fuzzy hat that Andy was quick to tell him he'd gotten her for Christmas last year. She'd been a picture of contrasts, all dark hair and eyes against the bright white of her clothing, her upturned button nose red from the wind, refusing to put on gloves despite the wind chill because they made it harder for her to speak to Andy.
He took a deep breath and lifted his hands, slowly signing the words as he spoke. "Will you have dinner with me?"
Her eyes widened as his fingers moved, clumsy but still clear on the message. Dinner? She queried, repeating the gesture back to him, her finger and middle fingers on both hands rotating in front of her.
"Tonight," he clarified, the sharp motion of his hands more confident now as he repeated the word in sign language.
Why?
"I don't know how to sign all the words on the list of reasons why," he admitted, shortening his signed response to 'many reasons'. "I like you, and I want to spend time with you."
I thought it was not proper? She asked, throwing his own words back at him from that meeting all those weeks ago.
"I made it proper," he admitted, thinking through the right word before clapping the motion in front of him a bit too enthusiastically, the sudden noise making her jump. She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wanting more of an explanation. "I told the Headmistress," for which there was no word in BSL, so 'boss' would have to work, "and we made some changes so that it wouldn't be a problem."
When?
"Last month," he revealed, grinning slyly, ducking his head to glance back up at her shyly. "You haven't answered my question. Will you have dinner with me?"
She nodded slowly, swallowing before smiling at him so minutely a small dimple he'd never seen before appeared in her cheek. You don't have to sign to me, I'm mute, not deaf. She admonished, tapping her ear mockingly on the last motion.
"Hermione and I figured out it helps me learn to do both," he confessed.
Hermione knew what you were up to?
"Who?"
H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E.
"Oh, yes. She was the only one I knew that knew British sign language and she had a book but I'm not always good with book learning, so we've been practicing on the weekends. Well, really she's been relaxing while I babysit Hugo and giving me pointers. Hugo thinks sign language is funny so it kept him pretty entertained. What was the symbol you used for Hermione?"
She showed him again, but slowly enough he could see now that it was the movement for 'H' and then 'book', and it made sense again. It was often how people who communicated with sign language found informal ways to name family and friends, because spelling out names everytime could be time consuming.
"If that's what you call Hermione, what do you call me?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. He leaned back against the couch, far more comfortable now that she'd agreed to a date with him.
She swayed back and forth, looking skyward like she was evading the question, before demonstrating it for him. She tapped her palm for the letter 'n' before sweeping it upwards in the motion for 'plant'.
Andy thought it suited you.
"He's not wrong," he agreed before nodding at the door. "Are you hungry?"
She nodded so he stepped closer, holding out his hand and waiting until she placed her fingers in his before tugging her towards the door. "Hermione says you like pasta, so I was thinking we'd go into muggle London. There's a place by Piccadilly she says is really good."
Pansy, in point of fact, loved pasta, and somehow managed to eat more than even he did. He was pretty sure she'd eaten her entire body weight in rigatoni that night and he found himself adding another admirable quality about her to the list of things he really liked about her; the woman could eat.
Despite lingering anxiety, nothing was awkward and everything flowed smoothly. They were able to converse faster without the need for paper and ink and her sense of humor was more evident when she communicated this way. He couldn't help but think that having to write down what she wanted to say had to cause her to think things through twice before doing so and much of her personality was lost in the practice.
His desire for her grew sharper with each moment together. He'd thought she was poetry in motion when she spoke with her son, the signs fluidly shifting together into secret messages just for Andy, but when those graceful signs were directed to him it was worse. She'd painted her nails red that week and they flashed at him like a warning sign but they didn't make him want to stay away, they beckoned him closer. They made him wonder how they'd look against his skin, pressing sharp enough to leave welts behind the same color as the varnish.
He escorted her back to her townhouse after dinner, standing on the steps just outside, not presumptuous enough to assume an invitation back inside, knowing it was too soon and at the heart of it, she was a lady. An incredibly strong, brilliant witch who was also a mother who had to think of her son, just as he was the boy's teacher and had to think of him too. Anything they did could and would affect him.
I had a good time, she signed to him, reaching out and tugging at his coat lapel until he took the hint and stepped closer. You should kiss me.
"It's not too soon?"
All great dates should end with a kiss. She signed firmly, nodding resolutely and leaning in. Even with him on the step below he was still just a little bit taller than her. That way I have something to dream about.
"We probably shouldn't be discussing what's going to happen in dreams tonight. It is only our first date," he teased, brushing his nose along hers before just barely brushing his lips to her's.
She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in firmly.
The next few minutes only appeared in his memories later as flashes of sensation.
She tasted like the red wine they'd drunk at dinner.
Her hair was actually softer than he'd imagined.
He really really liked the way she dug her nails into his shoulders.
When he broke away from the need to breathe he realized they'd moved and he'd pressed her against her door, holding her easily against him as she stood on her tiptoes on top of his boots. She pressed a kiss against his jaw before very gently pushing him backwards so she could sink back down to the flats of her feet.
She didn't say good night.
She instead signed 'next week', and blew him a kiss as she stepped through the door.
It became their new routine on Thursdays, he'd arrive with Andy in the afternoon and after his session with the healer they'd stop somewhere for a treat. It was too cold in the winter for ice cream much to Andy's chagrin, so one week it was hot chocolate at a cafe, and then the next pastries from a patisserie. They rotated the spots they stopped in and Andy quickly became used to Neville being there. His sharp eyes didn't miss the way Neville left his hand on his mum's lower back as he guided them around, nor how the way they spoke to each other, how they looked at each other, had changed.
He noticed the difference and it wasn't long before he started to ask questions.
"Are you dating my mum?" He asked as they walked back to the castle one evening in mid-December, his tone neutral and tentative.
"Would it bother you if I was?"
"You're not supposed to answer a question with a question, it's bad etiquette."
"Yes, I am dating your mother," Neville conceded, drawing his wand out to cast a warming spell on them both since they were apparently not going to be going into the building just yet. "Does that bother you?"
"No," he responded, too quickly to be true. "You're not allowed to be mean to her. I won't allow it."
Neville met Andy's eyes and for a brief second saw the man that he'd grow to be in those dark eyes. "I would never treat your mum the way your father treated her. Not just because I-" he paused, recalibrating his words at the last minute and was very startled to find that the first word he thought to say was true even if he wasn't ready to say it, "...care for her. No one should treat another person that way."
Andy nodded slowly, accepting his words and the shadow of the man faded back into the young boy he recognized. "Not that she can't take care of herself."
"Oh, absolutely. Your mum is terrifying. I saw her silently bombarda a spider last week. I didn't even think that spell could be done non-verbally."
Later that night, he pressed Pansy into the couch cushions, pressing kisses against her neck as he tried to find a comfortable way to balance this way since the couch was very much not built for a man of his stature. "Your son knows we're dating."
She laughed silently, he could feel it in the way her muscles shifted under his hands as he held her. He paused his kisses, glancing up so she could sign to him, Of course he does.
"I thought we were going to give it more time and then tell him together?"
You thought that. My son is not stupid.
"That's a good point," he conceded, pressing one more kiss against her sternum before shifting ever so slightly lower. "He warned me that I'm not allowed to be mean to you." He smirked devilishly up at her, allowing his eyes to wander up her chest and to meet her own. "How nice shall I be tonight?"
I like it when you're very nice.
"You remember the rules?"
She nodded slowly, running her tongue along her teeth with a carnally amused smile. She tugged his earlobe firmly, This means stop. She scraped her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, this means harder. She waited until he'd shifted to his knees on the floor, her legs splayed across by his shoulders before reaching over and scratching lightly along his forearms where they rested beside her hips, that means I'm close and don't stop.
She'd never had to use the first one, but the other two were used often and interchangeably. Neville was very good at reading her body, knew when her arching back reached a certain point that she needed more stimulation than his tongue, and he'd reach up and slide his hand under her bra, garden-roughened finger circling her areola until they'd pebbled so hard he could see them even through her sweater.
It was different making love to someone who couldn't verbalise their pleasure, he had to pay more attention to her tells, to the way she responded physically. They'd had to talk through the ways she'd express her consent because he would never presume that just because they'd begun in agreement that it would stay that way.
They hadn't done everything, not yet. They were still learning from each other, learning how their lives might fit together, and not only because he was her first serious relationship since her divorce and she was his first serious relationship since he and Hannah had broken up the year before.
There were three people in this relationship.
She was laying there half an hour later, bottomless with just her sweater left on and thoroughly wrecked when he returned from the bathroom, adjusting his trousers to hide the very obvious reaction he'd had to her pleasure. He knelt next to the couch, reaching over and pulling the throw on the back down and across her legs so she'd not get cold as she caught her breath.
He waited until she'd reached over and speared her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, brilliantly shining emerald green nails, to voice the request that had been on his mind all night. "I know it's short notice since it's next week, but I'd like to spend Christmas break with you and Andy."
What about your family?
"I'll go see my parents on Christmas Day for a bit, but it's just me," he explained, nervously playing with the tassels on the end of the throw, his eyes dropping briefly before rising back and meeting hers. "But I was hoping that it would be me, you, and Andy from now on."
Pansy bit her lip, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply as she thought about his words, but Neville didn't consider it an attempt to deflect. He liked that she gave weight to the request, that she didn't rush the answer.
It made the slow but firm nod that came a minute later so much better.
Christmas Day was still cresting on the horizon when he woke in her bed. The night before had been a night of firsts for them. The first time they'd had an actual meal as a trio, the first time Andy really got to see Neville and not Professor Longbottom. The first time he'd spent the night with Pansy, though they'd been chaste since Andy had finangled a late night bedtime so he could listen to a fictional broadcast on the radio.
He blinked slowly until his vision cleared in the sparse dawn light and he recognized the ceiling above him as Pansy's. He stretched as much as he could with her head resting on his bicep before curling back around her and accepting that despite being fully awake, he was not getting out of this bed.
Andy was too old for an early morning present opening and Pansy had assured him last night he could sleep in, her son wouldn't wake until closer to ten when the smells of Christmas brunch would draw him out. They'd do a full English breakfast to tide them all over until dinner at eight, and only after dinner would the presents be opened. The house elves would have doubtless filled the space under the tree some time after Andy fell asleep, and Neville was excited to see what the two of them thought of the gifts he'd got them, the first ones he'd had the chance to buy for them.
Another first.
He desperately wanted it to be the first of many.
Despite lazing quietly, Pansy stirred next to him, arching away and then back into him and lacing her fingers with his where his hand rested over her navel. She shifted back far enough to blink at him sleepily, her bottom lip poking out as she mouthed, too early.
"Sorry, it's a habit. I can get up if I'm disturbing you?" He offered sheepishly, his thumb slowly caressing back and forth on the small bit of skin revealed where her sleep shirt had ridden up.
She shrugged and twisted until she was laying on her back, sighing deeply as her eyes blinked wider and wider with each passing minute. He was enjoying the silence, the warmth of laying there with her with no expectations, the way she smelled now that the perfumes of yesterday had faded and it was just her.
Pansy reached over and grasped her wand, spinning it in the air and non-verbally casting a spell that he recognized as a muffliato from the wand motion alone. Once done, she tossed it carelessly on the bedside table and rolled until she was facing him, smiling deviously before awkwardly signing, I want my present.
"I thought we were doing gifts after-oh!"
Without warning, she'd slid a slightly chilled hand into his pajama bottoms, wrapping her elegant fingers around his half-hard cock and stroking softly. He looked down and watched, the vision of it something he'd never admit to having fantasized about since that first reintroduction on Platform 9 . It was her hands that'd caught his attention that day, dainty but strong, immaculately tended and groomed with varnish. The way they moved as she spoke, each movement deliberate but smooth, fluttering with meaning he hadn't understood.
From there, his preoccupation had grown as each new interaction found something new for him to be fascinated with. It hadn't taken long for his desire to evolve from physical to emotional.
The first thing he fell in love with was the way Pansy loved. The way she touched someone she loved, the way she listened to them, the care and consideration she gave, the warmth she emitted.
Neville had never doubted that he was loved by his family, by his Nan, but he'd always known that he was missing something fundamental in not having parents. Seeing Pansy and Andy together had shifted that perception from something almost academic to a keen sense of absence. In that void, he wanted Pansy's love, he wanted to be loved by her. He wanted to know what it was to be the target of that radiance, to be touched by her, to be so close that he didn't know where he ended and she began.
For her son, she was the homey hearth, comfortable and welcoming; everything you could ever need on a cold day.
For Neville, she was a forest fire irrevocably changing his landscape. She would remake him and he couldn't wait to see what grew in her wake.
It was so easy to respond to her, his body attuned sharply to her presence. He hardened in her hand and pressed insistently into her palm. His own hands reached for the hem of her shirt, forcing a pause so he could take it off before leaning down and feasting on her breasts. The angle wasn't right for her to continue to touch him but he was hard enough that too much more and he'd cum into the bed sheets. He didn't want it to end so soon and if she allowed, the only place he wanted to spend his seed was inside her.
They shifted closer, her legs falling open so he could lay between her thighs, far enough down that he could continue to suckle her breast and slide one hand into her panties, finding her wet slit and without hesitation clamping her clit between two fingers and circling her opening intently. She gasped and it was music to his ears, a clear sign that he was doing everything right.
With a firm yank she pulled his head back and leaned down to kiss him, pulling at him and silently beckoning him to come upward and lay atop of her. Together they pushed his pants down and her panties just after, both of them feeling an urgency and desperation as their hips aligned. Neville wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, pressing the head into the glinting hollow of her cunt, suddenly very aware of their size difference. She was almost a foot smaller than him, he'd never been with someone her size before. He had to lift himself onto one arm so he could see her face as he ever so slowly pushed inside, just a bit, just past the dip of the head until he could feel the way it caught on the spongy walls of her slit.
He did that again and again until she was tossing her head back and forth on the pillow, her nails scratching into his forearms as she pressed her hips upwards, trying to get him deeper but unable to force it from the bottom of their coupling. Neville was enjoying himself far too much to rush this though he had no doubt that if she had her voice she'd have been cursing him right about now.
In the absence of her voice, it felt like sacrilege to use his own. Neville had never made love without speaking at all, he'd always felt that partners should be able to guide each other to peak pleasure and he'd always very thoroughly enjoyed sharing with his lovers what they did well and hearing from them what they wanted.
This was intimate in a way he'd never experienced before.
It was incredibly erotic and tantalizing, the only sounds in the room the increasing wet crackle of their bodies and their breathing. Neville staved off his orgasm by focusing on her, on the way she breathed because it told him everything he needed to know. When he moved steadily inside her, pressing just a bit deeper, just a tiny bit, she vibrated with a moan he couldn't hear but he felt. When she arched against the body, wrapping her legs around his waist and tried to pull him deeper, he ran his free hand along her thigh and her exhale stuttered out, her eyes clenching shut as she keened.
Then she was coming, bearing down on him so tightly that he almost slipped right out, her mouth open in a wordless scream. The look of bliss, one he'd not seen before since he'd only enjoyed the pleasure of making her come with his mouth before, was more than he could take.
He surged forward, sliding deep until he could feel his balls pressed against her, the slap of them echoing in the room. He liked that noise, so he did it again. He pistoned fast and hard through her orgasm and pushed her into another, and when she reached up and fisted her hand in his hair, tugging at it in clear instruction, he smirked and lowered down on his elbow so they were closer, his hips slowing in speed but pressing more firmly and rhythmically against her clit. She pressed kisses against the only part of him she could reach, his neck, and spoke words against it that he couldn't hear but he thought he recognized.
He came instantly, groaning as his body went taut above her. The only thing that kept him from collapsing onto her was knowing that he'd likely smother her, so when his strength gave out he aimed to the side and rolled smoothly, landing on his back still deep inside Pansy who sat astride him like she belonged there.
He waited until they'd both come down a bit, the sun now fully in the sky and bathing them in the burnished gold of morning light. She was gloriously naked and curled up on his chest, twirling small fingers in sparse curls that had recently started growing there. He tucked a finger under her chin, nudging her face upwards until she met his eyes.
"I love you too."
It was a perfect morning on a perfect day, he decided.
Neville got his Christmas wish; it was just the beginning, it was the first morning of many to come.
Andy also got his wish, he had a new name when he graduated from Hogwarts, one that he shared with his mother.
Longbottom.
Silent Poem
by Margaret Atwood
Speak to me in your silence
when the words you have cannot
reach the distance between us.
Speak to me in your silence
when the pain you feel
cannot be assuaged by sound.
Speak to me in your silence
when the love you have
is too great for mere words.
Speak to me in your silence
and I will listen,
with a heart that hears
all that is unsaid.
Author's Notes: Apologies if I get any of the British Sign Language wrong, I am neither British, nor do I know sign language. If you're curious, Pansy refers to Andy as "My Sun", both a play on words and a demonstration of how much she loves him.
